


The Natural Pools of Garachico Caletón

by DeanRH



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Travel, casefic, tropical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-03 14:21:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 20,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19465792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRH/pseuds/DeanRH
Summary: Dean, Sam, and Castiel are now well-known hunters, called in for international cases when local hunters haven't been able to figure things out. They head to the tropical island of Tenerife, where Dean looks forward to a vacation. Sam is enthusiastic about the folklore still prevalent on the island. But Castiel is distracted, and seems to feel a pull towards the dark water of the ocean.





	1. Airport

"C'mon, Sammy, ain't you packed yet?"

Dean's voice echoed down the halls of the bunker. He was antsy, ready to go and breathe that open air. The bunker never felt more claustrophobic than it did right now, and he had never really been a fan of windowless living. He needed the wind in his hair, the rain on his face, or he started to wither.

"Dean, did you know that the island of Tenerife has multiple climate zones, just like Hawai'i?" Sam asked, walking right past his brother with his nose in a book.

"Dude. How are you walking and reading at the same time?" Dean asked. "Screw that. Put the damn book down, Sam, we'll learn enough about it once we're there!"

"Okay, okay," said Sam, setting it on top of his backpack. "Right. Sunscreen, money belt, fannypack - "

"You are _not_ wearing a fannypack on our vacation!" Dean said. "I will pretend I don't know you."

Sam bitchfaced at him.

"I'll wear whatever I want," said Sam. "Besides, Juan says it's a good way to carry things around."

"Good way to get your stuff stolen, maybe," said Dean under his breath, but really nothing could dampen his spirits.

 _A vacation!_ Their first vacation in, well. Ever?

There was a telltale sound of wings, and Castiel was standing in the map room of the bunker with them.

"Cas, aren't you packed either?" exclaimed Dean. "Our flight's due to leave in like, five hours!"

Castiel looked down at himself.

"This is all I own," he said. Dean looked at him and immediately felt bad.

"Aw, bud," he said. "When we get back, we'll get you some stuff, okay? Besides, you can't walk around a tropical island dressed like that."

"Why not?" asked Castiel. "I've always dressed this way."

"What did you wear back in ye olde Greek and Roman times?" asked Dean.

"Nothing," said Castiel. Dean nearly choked on his own throat.

"Excuse me?" he demanded.

"Religious figures were generally naked, or wrapped in a single cloth around the genitals," said Castiel. "Also, it was hot."

Dean's mind absolutely did not go anywhere near the kind of wordplay that statement offered. Nor did he think of Castiel, Angel of the Lord, appearing to the ancient Greeks in nothing but his...uh, nothing.

"Never say the word genitals again," Dean said instead.

"My apologies," Castiel replied.

Sam zipped up his bag. 

"Okay," he said. "I'm ready to go."

"I could still bring you," Castiel offered. "I'm near full power again and it wouldn't be much of a burden."

"We need you at full strength down there, Cas," said Sam. "Juan says he doesn't know what's going on, and the last thing we need is to show up with a low-battery powered angel."

"But Dean hates flying," said Castiel.

"I do," said Dean, clapping him on the arm. "But I hate seeing you weak more than I hate flying. Just think of my noble sacrifice for you, Cas. Don't feel bad."

"Okay," said Castiel.

"All right," said Dean. "Let's get this show on the road."

***

Dean's confidence waned the closer they got to the airport.

"You sure you don't need to go to the bathroom?" he asked Sam for the hundredth time. "How about some snack food? Coffee? Twizzlers?"

"Dean, I'm _fine,_ " Sam insisted. "Are you going to be okay up there?"

"What, me?" Dean scoffed. "Of course I am."

"You want me to hum Metallica to you so you calm down?" teased Sam.

"Shut up," said Dean, turning his attention back to the road.

He noticed his palms were sweating on the steering wheel.

***

They arrived at the airport and parked the Impala in the long-term lot.

"I'm sorry, Baby, they won't let me take you on the plane," said Dean. "I'll come back and drive you for days, I promise."

"Jeez, it's like you're leaving your girlfriend," said Sam. "C'mon, Dean. You were the one so worried we were going to miss our flight. We don't have time for you to talk to the car."

Dean leaned over and whispered to the Impala in a confidential tone.

"Don't listen to him, Baby, he doesn't mean it," he cooed. "Sam loves you too. He just doesn't understand our love."

" _Dean._ "

"All right, all right," Dean groused, "I'm coming already."

He followed Sam toward the airport doors, turning around to cast a last wistful glance at the car.

" _Dean!_ "

He hurried on through the doors to catch up with his brother.

***

After the long, tedious wait at check-in, and then security, Dean's nerves were frayed. 

"Wow, they really ramp up the anticipation, don't they?" Dean huffed a laugh.

Sam gave him a curious look.

"Will Twizzlers make you feel better?" Sam asked.

"Don't be ridiculous, Sam," said Dean. Then he slid his eyes to the side and looked at him. "Okay. Well. Maybe."

Sam sighed the sigh of long-suffering brothers everywhere.

"I'll get you some Twizzlers and a Coke," he said. "Then you can drink it through them like a straw."

"I'm not twelve, Sammy," Dean protested.

"Yeah, but when you were, it always calmed you down," Sam said.

Dean blustered a bit, and then folded his arms.

"Thanks, Sammy," he said quietly.

Sam grinned.

"What are brothers for?"

And the giant galumphed off to find some overpriced candy and soda.

***

Dean sat in the airport lounge, waiting for Sam to come back, and for their flight to be announced. People milled around him, the intercom rambled on about various flights, and he could see jets taking off through the window. All in all, the usual activities of a busy airport.

Then he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned his attention to the monitor that announced the flights.

 _Tenerife,_ it said, with a flight number. Suddenly it flipped, through a number of cities - _Chicago St. Louis Tampa Los Angeles,_ and different numbers showed up beside the listed flights.

"Must be a glitch," Dean said to himself, only to hear his voice echo in the empty spaces of a completely empty airport lounge.

The sun was setting, casting dark shadows across the floor. 

Dean could hear something coming, thumping and slithering down a distant hallway that looked like the black maw of some unthinkable beast.

"Dean," said a voice. He stood up slowly.

" _Dean!_ " said the voice again, and he snapped to. 

The sounds of the airport poured into his ears, and the people blinked back into existence, on an early, sunny afternoon. No monsters in sight.

He looked up at Sam, who was holding a larger number of Twizzlers and bottles of Coke than were strictly necessary.

"Man, you really zoned out there," he said, sitting down next to him. "I got your stuff."

"I see that," said Dean, still reeling. Sam, being Sam, noticed. His brow furrowed in concern.

Dean hated when he did that.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "Something wrong?"

Dean nodded, and gave Sam a look of terror.

"I'm not sure," he said. "But yeah. Something's wrong."


	2. Garachico

The moment they stepped off the plane into Tenerife South Airport, Dean felt the stress washing away from him. And it wasn't just the relief of getting off a plane.

Palm trees waved softly in the wind outside. The sky was a brilliant blue. Green buses came and went, and a man was sleeping on a bench. Not a homeless man, just a man enjoying the sunlit warmth of a Tenerife afternoon.

Dean smiled in a way he hadn't in years. He exhaled, and with it, felt tension melting away.

"Okay, Sasquatch," said Dean. "What's next?" 

"Rental car," said Sam, hoisting his bag over his shoulder. 

Dean walked over to a map of the island as Sam went to pick up the keys. It was long and thin, shaped vaguely like a stretched triangle. In the center, the volcano Teide stood, with the ocean all around.

"Got it," Sam said. "C'mon, I want to get into the water as soon as possible. We're meeting Juan at a restaurant in a town called Garachico."

Dean followed Sam to a car lot, where he found a red Jeep and climbed in. 

Dean stood back and stared at his brother as if he'd seen him for the first time.

"What?" asked Sam. "Don't give me shit right now, Dean, I'm tired."

"It's not that," said Dean, a hint of wonder in his voice. "It's just - it suits you. MacGyver."

Sam grinned at that, and gunned the engine.

"You coming?" he asked, and Dean hopped into the passenger seat. 

"Absolutely yes," he said. 

***

The Jeep made the trip around the island, on a wide ring-road that seemed to be the main highway. They passed people in convertibles and multiple buses. 

The island was much larger than Dean expected. An hour passed by, as he looked at the beautiful little towns with their square houses and carved wooden balconies, the blue Atlantic rising in the distance, everywhere they went.

"You said there were a lot of climate zones here?" asked Dean.

"Yeah," said Sam. "If you go up to the mountain in winter, there's snow. Down here at the beach, it's usually in the seventies."

Dean whistled, impressed. 

The main road became a twisting, winding affair, as they cruised along the cliff edges. The scenery was spectacular, jagged green mountains crowned with clouds met by the ocean ahead of them and in the rearview mirror behind. The towns became more decidedly Canarian, with people walking along the roadsides and even a few donkeys here and there.

"Man, this is the most beautiful place I have ever been," Dean declared. Sam smiled.

They were both smiling. 

It was very weird.

"Sam, are you - uh," Dean began.

"What?" 

"Happy," said Dean, throwing his arms up in confusion.

Sam considered the question. His smile grew wider.

"You know what, Dean?" he said. "I am. I am happy. I don't know why."

"We've got some fucked up lives if we find happiness suspicious," Dean said. Sam shrugged.

"You really think it's some kind of spell or something?"

"Well, Juan wouldn't have asked us down here for nothing," said Dean.

"That's true, but we don't know if this has anything to do with that," said Sam. "Maybe we're just happy to be here."

Dean grinned. He took out a pair of sunglasses and put them on, as the Jeep rounded yet another corner to reveal another incredible vista.

"Huh," he said. "Imagine that."

***

The twisting roads led all the way down to a small village on the coast. It was quaint and lovely, just like all the other villages Dean had seen from the window of the Jeep. Its uniqueness was in its placement.

Garachico was on a peninsula in the sea, making it look like a small island from a distance. Its name meant _small island,_ according to Sam. 

"We're here," he announced, as he parked the Jeep. Dean was glad; he was beginning to get queasy with all the twists and turns. Strange, he'd always been carsick as a passenger but never as a driver. Maybe that was why he was so obsessed with driving his car. 

Or it was a love that dare not speak its name, he thought with a grin.

"Awesome," said Dean. "I was starting to feel a little funny on those hills."

"Yeah, they're really not for sensitive stomachs," Sam agreed. "I was feeling it too, and I was driving."

"So what's this guy look like?" asked Dean.

"I'm not sure," said Sam.

"What do you mean? He's your contact."

"Well, yeah, but we've never met in person."

"We better not be on a wild goose chase."

"If we are, can you imagine anywhere better to be on one?"

Dean looked around at the little town, calm and peaceful, the sea breeze sweeping over him as he looked out at the dark blue of the ocean.

He had to admit Sam was right.

They turned into a _guachinche_ , a local establishment run by the winemakers of the region. A tanned, muscular man with joy dancing in his dark brown eyes stood up and walked to the front of the restaurant.

"Sam and Dean Winchester, I presume," he said, shaking their hands with enthusiasm. "It is an honor to meet you. Thank you for coming. Juan García Ramírez."

The restaurant was open to the air, taking advantage of the warm sea breezes. Juan indicated a table near the entrance with a perfect view of the sea and sky. The table already had a carafe of wine seated in the center, surrounded by plates and baskets of bread along with a menu that promised the kind of dinner that might lead to a nap afterwards.

Everything here was perfect, from the ocean to the sky to the sun, like a travel brochure.

"Good to meet you," said Sam. "Do you want to tell me and my brother why we're here?"

"Yes, please sit down," he said. "I'm sorry for being so circumspect over the phone, but I've never dealt with anything like this before and I didn't know who might be listening."

"Who do you think might be listening?" asked Dean, ever the suspicious one.

Juan's merry eyes met his. _Damn, this guy is handsome,_ Dean's mind thought without his permission. He ignored the thought, although Juan seemed to understand it as it must have passed over his expression, and the Spanish man's dazzlingly white smile went up a notch.

"You never know," said Juan. "It never hurts to be too careful."

Dean was lulled by his accent, too. He might be developing some kind of a crush, which was really news to him.

"Why don't you tell us what you know," said Sam, "and then you can point us to a place we can take a swim. It was a long flight and I'd love to get in the water before I try to sleep off this jet lag."

"It's funny you should mention that," said Juan. "It's the thing that's concerned me for a while."

"Swimming?" asked Sam, confused.

"Not exactly," said Juan. "Here in Garachico, along with other parts of the island, there are natural pools formed of volcanic rock. In some places, we built walls to keep the tides from coming in. They're especially good for the elderly or the young, as the pull of the currents can be strong here."

He stood, and walked to the edge of the restaurant. Then he pointed toward what looked like an inlet that was clearly used for swimming, complete with ladders into the pool.

"The natural pools of Garachico Caletón," he said. "And there's something very strange happening here, Sam. I don't know what to make of it."

Dean noticed a man standing at the edge of the pool. Barechested, wearing only trunks, he saw the outline of his muscular legs as he prepared to dive.

All in a rush, he recognized the figure, as the muscles of his back and shoulderblades worked to pitch him forward in a dive. He stood suddenly, nearly tipping over the wine.

"Cas?!" he shouted. " _Castiel_!"

But with a splash, the angel was gone.


	3. Happiness

Dean rushed to the edge of the water in a panic.

Moments later, Castiel surfaced. 

And boy did he not think this through.

Cas climbed out of the water, droplets coursing down his chest. In the tropical sunlight, his blue eyes had an eerie glow. Dean stared at his slick, tanned skin and his mouth went dry.

"Dean!" Castiel smiled, and he was a goner. "I'm glad you're finally here. A swim is refreshing, you should try it."

Dean's brain was not so much hooked to his mouth as to someplace below the belt. Castiel stood bathed in late afternoon sunlight and seawater and really not much else.

"Dean?" Cas said. "Are you all right?"

Right. Talking.

"I, uh, they - he- just - we -"

"I might have frightened him," said Juan, coming up beside Dean. "I take it you're friends?"

Castiel nodded.

"Castiel," he said.

"Angel of the Lord, Castiel?" Juan said, his eyes lighting up. He shook Cas's hand, grinning. "I've heard so much about you! A real angel!"

"Let me get dressed," said Cas, and he walked off.

Dean did _not_ watch his ass in those tight European swim trunks. He did not.

Sam cleared his throat in an effort to get Dean to stop watching Cas walk away. Dean spun around, cheeks heating.

"It might be an idea to get into some other clothes yourselves," said Juan, taking in their usual ensemble. "Go ahead and check into your hotel. We can meet at the restaurant and I'll explain."

***

An hour later, showered and dressed in more appropriate clothes for the environment, Sam and Dean met Castiel and sat at the same table. Dean wore ripped jeans and a white tank top, while Sam had chosen a button-down short-sleeved shirt. 

Castiel...Castiel was radiant. Now that Dean could see so much more of him, so much more of that grace and coiled power, he wondered how he could have even considered Juan for a moment. Castiel was like the sun, outshining anything else in the world.

He was dressed in a tight black t-shirt that left absolutely nothing to the imagination, and tight jeans that hugged his ass. Dean was only now coming to terms with the fact that his sexuality was not one hundred percent straight, but Castiel just blew all that out of the water.

"Dean," said Sam, pulling him out of his reverie. Dean nodded as if he had been following along.

"As I was saying," said Juan, "hunters here have their hands full. I'm from an ancient hunting family, around since the first Spaniards came here, before the Guanches were obliterated. There are enough monsters, ghosts, and magic here to last a lifetime. But this, this is very strange."

"What is it?" asked Sam. "I mean, what can we do for you? If you're from such an old hunting family your pedigree is even better than ours."

Juan sighed and looked out at the water, where the sun was setting and setting the sea on fire.

"It's just," he said, "everyone is so _happy._ "

Dean started.

"Come again?" he asked.

"Garachico, and Tenerife in general, has always been popular with travelers," shrugged Juan. "Whether it was conquistadors or holidaymakers, the island has lured people from all over the world. So happiness here isn't all that strange - well, apart from the Brits who've taken over the south and get violent."

Juan poured a glass of wine for himself from the carafe.

"But there's something strange about things recently," Castiel said. Juan nodded.

"It's not just that they're happy," he said. "It's that everyone's happy. All the time. Like everything is syrup-slow, and nothing is getting done. People visiting assume it's the manana spirit, but the island is suffering from it."

He nodded toward the natural pools, which were turning an inky purple as the sunset gave way to night.

"And it's something I've traced here," said Juan. "This seems to be the epicenter of things, here in Garachico. But I've not been able to do research, and neither have the other hunters."

He gave them a despairing look.

"I'm just too happy," he explained. "And so is everyone else."

***

Upstairs in Sam's hotel room, Dean spoke urgently.

"I _told_ you there was something weird about feeling so good!" Dean said. "Always suspect good feelings, Sam, they never turn out right."

Sam sighed, and walked out onto his balcony. The town was coming to life beneath his feet, the bars and restaurants opening for the evening.

"Maybe it's not malevolent," said Sam. "I mean, there are good things in this world too. Right, Cas?"

Castiel came out onto the balcony and leaned against the railing. Dean watched the muscles of his arms, and looked away quickly when Cas caught him looking. He wasn't sure if the resultant smirk was meant for him, or just a trick of his imagination.

"Yes, there are good things," said Castiel. "Although I would be hesitant to assume that this was one of them."

"Well, we've got a few weeks here," said Dean. "It'll give us time to figure it out, do some research, ask questions."

"I speak Spanish," said Castiel. "I think that would be most appropriate."

"Good idea," said Sam. "Now, let's get some shuteye before we make any decisions. I'm dead on my feet here."

He shooed Dean and Cas out of his room, and they went their separate ways.

***

Dean stood on his own balcony a while later, his eyes closed in bliss. He loved the warmth of the weather, how it caressed his skin and wrapped around him. His thoughts seemed slower, his actions less sharp.

For the first time since he could remember, he crawled into bed, and he fell asleep, peaceful and deep, and did not wake up until well after the sun rose in the morning.

He hadn't had a single nightmare or jolted awake scrambling for his gun, not even once.


	4. In the Pools

A knock at his door woke Dean from the deepest slumber he had experienced in years.

"Yeah?" he mumbled, peacefully floating along on the soft white covers of his bed.

"Dean? Do you want to go swimming with me?" Castiel's voice rumbled through the door.

Dean opened his eyes. Then he sat up suddenly.

He'd slept through the night? How? What if something terrible had happened? What if something got the jump on them?

He actually _felt_ his worries fade away, like the teeth of nightmares no longer able to bite in the light of day.

Then his muzzy morning brain connected the words _Cas_ and _swimming_. He was now wide awake.

"Sure, yeah, sounds great," said Dean, sliding out of bed to change into his swim trunks.

"I'll meet you down at the pools," Cas said, and Dean heard his footsteps echo down the hall.

***

Outside, the grey cloud cover made the world feel warmer, like a cozy day beneath a blanket at the fireside. Dean could see Cas and Sam sitting on the edge of the pools with food spread out across a towel. Chocolate pastries, fruit, and a dozen things Dean didn't recognize were on offer. 

"Don't worry, I got you doughnuts," said Sam. "Well, sort of. Still, try the fruit. It's awesome."

Dean smiled and grabbed a handful of berries, popping them into his mouth. The sweet explosion on his tongue made his eyes widen.

"Good, huh?" asked Sam. Dean nodded.

He stood with his hands on his hips at the water's edge, warm even though he wasn't wearing much.

"Man, I sure could get used to this," said Dean.

"It is pleasant," Castiel agreed. He unfolded all that long, beautiful body and stood beside Dean, whose heartbeat ratcheted up several notches.

"Race ya," said Dean, and dove into the pool.

It was like nothing he had ever felt.

He'd expected the usual initial shock of cold water before he had to get used to it, the feeling of shouting for joy and cold when his head broke the surface.

This was nothing like that at all. This was like diving into the world's largest hot tub, or a warm bath, or something that held and cherished him, that wanted only for his happiness, that assured him he would never have to worry again.

Surfacing, he felt literal years falling away from him. He wondered what he'd see in the mirror, if those deep lines beneath his eyes and between his eyebrows would vanish. He remembered the pain of his life, yes, but it was as if he viewed it from a faraway ridge, a distant land he need not return to if he so chose.

Treading water, Dean wasn't in any hurry to climb back out again, and revelled in the feeling surrounding him. A moment later, Castiel's body cut through the water near him, making a perfect, clean dive. Dean could see his individual muscles, up by his shoulderblades, and watched him as he swam for a while under the water.

Eventually, he surfaced too, before Dean could get too concerned about his access to air. He caught sight of Dean and smiled a brilliant smile.

"You won," he said. Dean looked at him, puzzled. "The race?"

Oh, right. Dean just grinned at him like an idiot. Then he turned and swam off to explore the pools.

The natural pools of Garachico Caletón were volcanic, shaped here and protected from the Atlantic. There were ridges and little hideaways everywhere he looked. He swam into one, a little cove that hid him from prying eyes, the ceiling just a bit over his head.

He turned around to see Castiel there in the opening, his eyes lit electric blue from the reflection of the water as the sun burned through the grey clouds above their heads. He was holding onto the volcanic rock just above his head, and so close, _so close_ to Dean's face he could see the individual water droplets on Castiel's eyelashes, and dripping down from his hair to course across his high cheekbones. His full, soft pink lips were close to the waterline, and Dean saw the rest of his powerful body in his mind's eye, obscured somewhat by the water.

"Dean," growled Castiel, as if it were a prayer. 

Then he floated forward and caught Dean's lips in his, hands going into Dean's hair.

Dean let out a little sound of surrender when their lips touched, and suddenly he was making out with Castiel here in this little cove, lit brightly by the lightning shapes of the sun on the water, across their faces and the black rocks behind them. He finally felt the slide of those muscles against his own, glorious, _glorious,_ and was ready to sing a hallelujah for Castiel alone.

Nowhere in his being did he feel an ounce of doubt, or of fear. Only that he had wanted this, _they_ had wanted this, this thing they'd danced around for over a decade, and now it seemed foolish and human and mortal to deny themselves something like this, clearly a gift from heaven. What had once seemed an iron gate wrapped round with thorny roses now proved to be a silken strand thin as gossamer, easy and simple to break, and not worth considering, given the kist of riches that lay beyond for both him and Castiel.

After a while, they moved apart, having done nothing more than kiss, but panting all the same.

"I am blessed in your presence, Dean Winchester," rumbled Castiel, deep in his chest.

"And I with yours," said Dean, laying his hand there, to feel the vibrations of the voice he so loved, emanate from within him.

"Uh, guys?" Sam's voice had an edge of concern to it. "I can't see where you went, could you come out here, please?"

Reluctantly, Castiel gave Dean one last yearning look and swam back out into the main pool. Sam saw him and a relieved smile broke out across his face as Dean also came into view.

"Thanks," he said. "I was getting a little nervous when I couldn't see you. These pools are great but I've read there can be a wicked current. Let's make sure we're all visible to each other, at least until we figure this thing out."

Dean smiled at his brother. Sam gave him an odd look. 

"Figure what thing out?" Dean asked.

"Whatever's happening here?" Sam said. "You know? The reason we're here right now?"

"Oh, that," said Dean, vaguely recalling they had come here for a hunt of some kind. Like much of the painful part of his life that had receded into the distance, he couldn't quite recall exactly what that might have been. Oh well. Sammy would tell him. He was a good kid.

"You should really have a swim, Sam," said Castiel. "Highly recommended."

Sam nodded, but his gaze shifted from the angel to his brother. Dean knew that look. Sam was working something out in that huge brain of his, something he'd always been a little jealous of but was now simply proud.

"I'll swim in a bit," he said. "I think for now I'm going to stay dry. I've got work to do."

"I ever tell you that I'm proud of you, Sammy?" asked Dean. Sam shot him another odd look. "Well, I am."

"All right," he said. "C'mon, get out of the water. We've got to meet Juan for lunch."

Dean and Castiel climbed out of the pool and dried off. The sun and sea wind did the rest, as Dean looked up dreamily at the palm trees all around them, and the magical, peaceful little town.

_I could **really** get used to this, _he thought, and he followed Sam and Castiel up the path to the restaurant.


	5. Night

Juan was sitting at the restaurant at the same table, looking out at the ocean and enjoying the wine of the _guachinche._ He nibbled at various foods sitting out, and waved at the three men as they came to join him at the table.

"Welcome!" he said, catching the waiter's eye. "Would you like some wine, my friends?"

"It's the middle of the day," said Sam.

"It's the Canaries," Juan reasoned, and Dean liked this reasoning.

"So Juan," said Sam. "When did you start noticing the change around here? Are there any entities we should know about, folklore to check into?"

Juan gave him a mystified look.

"Change?" he asked, blinking, as though his memory were hazy.

"Yes," insisted Sam. "Yesterday, when we met you here, you said that something was wrong, some kind of happiness problem?"

"Oh!" Juan said, startled, as if he had only just remembered the conversation. "Yes, I think I did invite you here to investigate that, didn't I?"

Now Sam was really staring at the guy with an intense, searching look.

"Um," said Juan, shaking his head as if to clear it. "There's plenty of folklore here, it's the Canary Islands after all. Ghosts, too, come to think of it. Nothing that would cause undiluted happiness. And really, what of it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's not exactly _hurting_ anyone, is it?" Juan asked. The waiter poured the wine and Dean enthusiastically polished off a glass while Sam gave him a _we're working, Dean_ look. Dean gave him the finger with a smile, and then took the opportunity to lean on his hand and give Castiel hearteyes, which Castiel returned with a renewed enthusiasm.

"Okay, something _really_ weird is going on here," said Sam. He looked over at Dean and Cas, who were off on another planet together.

"Dean! Cas!" Sam barked, startling them. They turned to look at him.

"Oh my God," he muttered, putting his head in his hands. "Juan, this _happiness,_ as you call it, is it like wish fulfillment too?"

"I guess?" Juan responded. "It's like everything you've ever wanted is yours, everything you've yearned for, a quiet life, no more debt, no more work, nothing. Just floating along on a lazy river. Don't you feel it too?"

Sam shook his head.

"No," he said. "Not like you're describing. I mean - it's beautiful here, and peaceful. But you're talking about euphoria. Like a drug."

Juan nodded slowly. Sam suddenly leaned forward and pinched Juan and Dean on the arms, _hard._

Both yelped, and looked at Sam in betrayed shock.

"Are you both with me right now?" Sam demanded. Dean felt like he was surfacing from a deep dream, but reality seemed to have sharper edges now. He nodded.

"Then you pinch Cas," Sam directed. "I'm not willing to undergo a smiting for this."

Dean did as he was asked, and Cas jumped.

"Okay," Sam said urgently. "The three of you seem to be caught up in this spell. I need you to be clear with me right now, okay? It's important."

They all nodded.

"Juan," said Sam. "Have you been swimming in the natural pools?"

Juan nodded.

"Of course," he said. "Everyone here does, people come from all over the island, they're very popular."

"And I haven't," said Sam. "And until we figure this out, I won't. _And neither will you._ "

He turned and looked pointedly at Dean and Castiel.

"Is that understood?" 

They both nodded like scolded children.

"Okay," said Sam, breathing out through his nose. "I need to go do some research. Stay in your rooms until I get back. Maybe it wears off after a while, maybe not, but we can't risk you getting another dose of whatever is in there."

The three of them nodded in agreement, and went back to their rooms.

***

Inside Dean's room, the sunlight glowed on the reddish-orange tiles, as the long white curtains blew softly in the breeze.

Castiel laid him naked on his white bed, praising and worshipping his body, the freckles that had bloomed across his skin in the tropical sunlight, and the soft, golden glow of their bodies as they moved together on the bed.

_How long I've wanted you,_ Castiel whispered into his skin, _how I've longed for you, how I've dreamt of touching this skin again with reverence._

Dean wasn't good with words, not with an angel speaking poetry against his heated skin, undulating against the angel's heavenly body as the tropical breeze caressed him, the sheen of sweat built of desperation and love.

_Will you have me, my beloved?_ whispered Castiel, and Dean could only nod in acquiesence, as Castiel's hand cupped his ass and he guided his cock against his hole, sheathing himself inside Dean's tight heat.

They moved together there on the bed, Castiel's insistent thrusts asking for Dean to open more to him, and Dean did so beautifully. Castiel lifted him into his lap, his body glowing burnished gold and his hair like a halo, sweet sinful lips giving way to soft cries, and Castiel found completion within this man he worshipped, an offering for a golden god. Dean threw his head back and sobbed his release, safe in the knowledge that he was owned by this angel who had dragged him from hell and into this heaven, and Castiel cradled him in his arms.

***

That night, Dean felt a little more clear-headed, and tried to set the events of the day together in his mind. 

A long decade of pining and heartbreak, hoping for and fearing the things he felt around Castiel, wondering if it was an irrevocable sin to have these kinds of dreams about an angel. Wondering if Castiel would be revolted by it. Wondering if there was something deeply wrong with him, coupled with the usual American brand of homophobia he'd grown up with.

And yet, here, today, on this tropical island so far from what any of them had ever known, they had come together easy and sweet, like they had no reason to fear, all this time. Castiel tasted like honey and lightning. Dean touched his lips as he remembered, and the way they made love made Dean feel like he was somehow outside of time, Cas's lover from the days of the ancient Greeks to the fall of Constantinople to the various points of history that resulted in today, this morning, this afternoon, and he made Dean feel as if he were the touchstone of them all. Lightning in a bottle, a force of nature, in love with him - and both were desperate in the thrall of it, like they wanted to make up for all that lost time, like they couldn't get enough.

He walked out onto his balcony into the cool night air, hoping to get a sense of perspective. Outside, beneath the stars, the town was quiet, having closed down for the evening, although they did things late in Tenerife. The stars above his head shone bright and bold. He wondered if he'd somehow made a wish upon one in the past, and everything he'd ever wanted was now being dropped in his lap as if it were a reward for his patient waiting.

He narrowed his eyes when he saw a flash of white out by the natural pools. He leaned over the balcony to try and get a better look.

"Cas?" he whispered to himself. The figure turned to look at him, and then dove into the dark water.

***

Dean stumbled down the stairs of the hotel and rushed out the door. He ran to the edge of the pools in the warm darkness.

"Cas, are you in there?" hissed Dean, looking into the pools. They were inky-black, with only the reflection of stars as pinpoints of light.

Then the moon came out from behind the clouds and illuminated the figure of Castiel in the water.

He was looking up at him.

"Cas, man, c'mon," he said. "You heard what Sam said. Get out of there."

Cas just kept looking at him.

"Swim with me, Dean," his voice echoed across the water.

"No," said Dean. "We gotta get inside. Besides, it's dark, no telling what else might be in there with you."

He shuddered at this thought, remembering what happened at the airport. He thought maybe he should bring it up to Sam again.

Castiel swam closer, the stars in his wake.

"Please, Dean," he said. "Swim with me? Just for a little while?"

And there was that yearning, that desperate desire again, growing sharper in his skin like needles. It reminded him of the way he felt when he was in the liquor aisle at the store, staring at whisky he couldn't have, but with ten times the intensity.

_And this is absolutely not like a mermaid luring you to your doom,_ said the hunter in him, as he stared down at the white face of Castiel, his strange blue eyes reflecting the moon.

But the pull proved too strong, and the desire to feel Castiel's lips beneath his again, no matter how hard he fought it.

Dean succumbed, and he dove in, to swim among the stars.


	6. Euphoria

The following morning, Sam went downstairs and out to the restaurant. Juan was already there. He looked up and smiled.

"Sam!" he said. "Great to see you. We've got new wine, you want to try?"

"Sure," said Sam. "Listen - have you seen Dean and Cas?"

"Yeah, they were just taking a dip before lunch," he said. "They'll be in soon."

Sam sighed and pushed his hair back behind his ears.

"Juan, I need you to answer a question," he said. Juan's happy expression weakened a bit.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Have you been swimming in the pools today?"

"Well, yes. Who hasn't?"

"Are you telling me the entire community of Garachico has been -"

Juan laughed.

"As if you didn't know," he said.

"What?" asked Sam. "What should I know?"

"Well, I mean, you know how popular the pools are," said Juan. "In fact, I was more surprised I didn't see you there this morning."

"I, uh, slept in," Sam said. "How often would you say people swim there?"

Juan poured them both a glass of wine and raised a toast to him. Sam barely wet his lips.

"It's great," he said, setting the glass down.

"I gotta say, you're really making me nervous," Juan laughed. "What has gotten into you?"

"I don't know, Juan, maybe that you called me and my brother all the way down here to deal with something and you don't know what it is?"

Juan gave him a puzzled look.

"Down here from where?" Juan asked.

"Kansas!" said Sam, losing patience. Juan took a sip of his wine and then put a hand against Sam's forehead, which he brushed off, irritable.

"You sure you're feeling all right?" he asked.

"Yes! What's gotten into you?" Sam asked.

"What's gotten into _you_?" Juan replied. "What on earth would you be doing in Kansas of all places?"

He shivered.

"We live there?" said Sam, incredulous. Juan took another drink of wine, now looking at Sam as if he were very worried about his sanity.

"What are you talking about, Sam?" Juan asked. "You live here. You've always lived here."

And holding Sam's gaze, he drained his glass.

***

Dean and Cas finally made their way into the restaurant and sat down, making eyes at each other.

Sam sat down next to them.

"Look, guys," he said. "There is something _massively_ weird going on - "

But neither Dean or Cas even looked at him. They only had eyes for each other.

Sam reached forward and pinched them both. Hard.

"In a minute, Sammy," Dean said dreamily.

Sam sighed the deep sigh of being the little brother.

"And Sam will have to save the day," he said to himself, because he enjoyed talking in third person.

Sam stood up and coldcocked the both of them.

***

"What the _fuck_ , Sam?!" Dean yelped, once he had shaken it off a bit. Then he held his head and groaned. "Why do I feel like I have the hangover from hell? I don't even remember drinking."

Castiel was just blinking owlishly as if he had been rudely awoken from a deep sleep.

" _Listen to me,_ damn it," Sam barked. Dean cringed.

"Lower the volume, damn," he said.

"The two of you - what's going on? You've been completely out of it, haven't said a word to me, and need I remind you _we are on a case!_ "

Dean climbed into a chair and sat down, trying to clear his muddied head.

"Yeah, okay," said Dean. "We got here, we met the guy, there's a happiness problem, we took a swim, we - "

Dean's eyes became huge. He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked at Castiel, who was looking back at him with narrow eyes as if he were trying to remember something.

"What?" asked Sam.

_And there it is, the guilt, the terror, everything you were always afraid you were. John Winchester wasn't going to have any pansy sons, no sir._

"I - I - " he stared at Castiel, and clearly other memories began to surface because his entire face drained of colour.

"We made love," Castiel stated, as if he were talking about the weather. "In Dean's room. On the carpet."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, okay, that's enough for me!" said Sam. Dean looked like he wished God would strike him dead on the spot, but God was on vacation, so he was out of luck.

"Look, whatever this is, whatever is going on," Sam said, "I think it's tied to people swimming in the pools. Maybe to the water itself. So can we all agree _not to get into the water_ until I have a better lead on this thing?"

"Okay," said Dean, steadfastly staring at the ground now. Did Cas like it? Was Cas happy? Did Cas really want - but of course not. It was just a spell, part of the curse of this place. He couldn't be blamed for his actions, neither could Cas. 

"So, are you saying there's something like - ecstasy - in the water?" asked Dean, cheerfully rejoining his brother in his actual career and pretending nothing happened. 

"Something like that, yeah," said Sam. "Euphoric feelings, and - Juan told me that we've always lived here. He didn't remember anything about calling us down here from Kansas. Nothing."

"Okay this sounds serious," said Dean. "Any leads?"

"Nothing so far," said Sam. "I've been researching the Guanche folklore, and sure there are monsters, ghosts, a lot of Christian saints and stuff, but all of it sounds like the kind of thing Juan and his family could have taken care of."

"Have either of the two of you noticed," Castiel said suddenly, "that we are the only people in this town?"

Sam and Dean turned to look at him in surprise. Castiel stared out at the waves.

"Juan said the _whole community_ was out there at the pools," said Sam. "Did he mean - "

"Us," Castiel confirmed.

They walked outside, and onto the street. Truth be told, they hadn't really noticed it before, but everything was deserted.

"How did I not see this when we got here?" asked Dean.

"I don't know," said Sam. "But you _gotta stay out of the water,_ Dean. First time it was a pinch. This time I had to punch you both to bring you back. What's next? A stab? A gunshot wound? I'm not losing you both forever because we got sloppy."

"Agreed," said Dean, crossing his arms. "And y'know, the other thing about this place is that it doesn't _feel_ empty. It feels alive, like - "

" - it's waiting for something to happen," Sam finished. "Like it's watching us."

The two brothers and their angel stared up at the beautiful little houses lining the street, and Dean thought of the strange sounds he had heard in the airport.

Something large and wicked, slouching toward them.

***

Dean sat in his bedroom, thinking of the events of the last few days. Those memories were crystal-clear, like high-definition film. Everything else in his life paled completely around them.

The rush of shame that accompanied his memory of their lovemaking on this bed, how eager he was for it, how much he was into it, how shameless he had been in his desire. Tears sprang to his eyes unbidden as his self-hatred came prowling to shout at him in a voice that sounded a lot like John's.

_You think this is funny? You want to go tell your dead momma that her son ended up a pervert? i_

Dean gasped a sob, and aloud in the empty room, he said:

"Mom loved us so much, and you were a jackass. I don't need to listen to you anymore!"

But that voice, and the precipice of shame, crowded into his head. He felt the sudden yearning urge to find anything, anything to take the edge off, to take the pain away. Whisky did the job but honestly that was when he was trying to look cool for other people. He'd drink literally anything. Hell, he drank Robitussin once, when that voice came calling. 

Now, in one smooth movement, he unfolded himself from the bed and went to stand at the balcony, to look down at the waters of the starry natural pools.

_I'm not going in,_ he thought to himself. _I'm just going to look._

The thought reminded him so much of the way he talked to himself at the liquor store that he felt disturbed, and the yearning intensified.

_Take it all away,_ _numb the pain, hide how inadequate you are. And you think yourself worthy of the love of an angel? An unknowable warrior of God whose true form is something beyond human comprehension? Get with it, Dean. You're not just getting ideas above your station, you're actually pathetic. And a pansy. You sure did turn out great, didn't you? Should never have given you the Impala, you wouldn't know what to do with her if you tried. Dress up like your old man but you'll never be your old man, just a hermit crab looking for an identity to crawl into -_

Dean slammed his eyes shut and his hands onto the balcony, willing the voice to shut up and leave him alone. Castiel hadn't said a word to him all day and he had worked himself up into a state where he would normally be necking a bottle of just about anything by now.

He looked up to see a familiar figure standing by the pools again.

"Cas?" Dean said, and then called, "Cas! _Castiel!_ "

The figure turned and looked at him for a moment. From this distance, Dean couldn't really see, but he interpreted the sag of his shoulders as devastation. He wasn't certain, but in his own state of mind, like recognized like.

Castiel faced him for another long moment. Then he turned.

"No," said Dean. "No! Cas! Sam said not to go in the water!"

But Castiel did not turn around again.

" _Damn it,_ " Dean swore, and turned around, launching himself through the door of his hotel room. He pounded down the stairs and outside into the warm night.

Castiel was nowhere to be seen.

Dean started to run.


	7. Castiel

Dean skidded to a stop at the edge of the pools.

They reflected the stars, innocent and so very, very deep.

"Cas!" Dean shouted. "Castiel!"

But the only answer was the slight lapping of the water against the rocks.

Dean grabbed his hair with his hands, pulling at it. He should never have left the angel alone. His silence had been strange.

_The water looks so inviting,_ Dean thought. _Maybe if I just - I need to find Cas, after all, and -_

_**No** , _he thought to himself sternly. _It may be taking me some time to come to terms with the word 'alcoholic' but I am **not** adding another addiction to the list._

_Not while Sam still needs me._

_Not while Cas is out there._

_Probably drowning._

"Cas!" Dean shouted again in despair, when suddenly Castiel floated by on his back, his eyes staring up at the stars. "Oh God Cas are you - are you - ?"

But Castiel was alive, blinking up at the stars, as he floated peacefully on the water.

"Cas, thank God you're okay," Dean said in a whoosh of air, relieved. "C'mon, buddy, you gotta -"

"Please stop calling me that," said Cas, so quietly Dean wasn't sure he had heard at first.

"What?" Dean was down on his hands and knees now, trying to grab at Castiel without getting himself wet.

"Buddy," said Castiel to the stars. "Brother. Pal. _Cas._ I much preferred it when you cried my name with reverence, _Castiel,_ as if you finally understood."

Dean was drawing a blank here, so he didn't answer. He grabbed a nearby stick.

"Cas, grab it," said Dean. "We can't be in there, you're _marinating_ in whatever it is."

Castiel was silent for a while, the soft paper rattle of the palm trees the only sound beyond the crash of waves, beyond the natural pools.

"I've made a lifetime of mistakes, doing what you ask, Dean," said Castiel. "I would prefer to stay here. It's better than the way I felt out there."

"If you don't do it for me, then do it for Sam," said Dean. "I'm begging you here."

Castiel raised a lackluster hand and grabbed the stick. Dean hauled him in, a little more roughly than before, and _felt_ the joyful calm landing on him from the water droplets off Castiel, like embers sparking at a campfire. He ignored it. He had to.

"You want to talk about it, bu - Castiel?" Dean tried.

Castiel wouldn't look at him. But he spoke, sitting on the edge of the water.

"It's like flying," he whispered.

"I guess - "

"No," said Castiel emphatically. "No, you don't understand - could _never_ understand. I felt such a strong pull to this place, like I was being dragged here rather than coming of my own volition. And I dove in the pools the first day, Dean, and I - I had my wings again."

Dean stared at Castiel's noble profile, but didn't speak, for fear of interrupting.

"And you know, I haven't - I haven't flown in years now?" he said. "My wings are bone now. The feathers are gone. And I remember it, the joy of it, the freedom. And you know what? I thought it was worth it. I am billions of years old, Dean, can you understand that? And for some reason, this one little mayfly life has eclipsed everything around it. You're my sun, the center of my galaxy. I thought it was worth the pain."

Dean tried to tamp down John's jeering voice in his head but couldn't quite do it. _Not worth it, not worth anything._

"And now?" Dean prompted, hating himself for doing it.

Castiel's head dropped, and he made a strange noise, something like a wail he couldn't quite suppress.

"And now, I know," he said. "I was foolish, and jealous, as those in love tend to be. I wanted your love for myself. I never thought - I never thought of how it would feel when you turned me down, when you shut me out."

He turned to Dean.

"The universe is so, so vast," he said. "And it is so irrelevant, what we do down here on this little planet among the stars. But it mattered to _me,_ Dean, more than anything in a billion years of existence."

He gave a sad little laugh.

"But of course you are human, and you are flawed," he said. "And years of conditioning can't be drawn out of you because of a few days where we were truly happy."

"It was the drug, Cas," Dean said, and then hated himself for saying it when he saw the look on Castiel's face.

"Yes, that's what I thought you'd say," Castiel said. "And the worst thing is that sitting here, looking at you, all I want is another opportunity to lose my wings for you again."

Dean had no idea what to say to any of this. It was huge and terrifying, a black dark hole threatening to swallow him up.

Castiel looked like he expected that too.

"I know that I'm not - an angel anymore," he said. "I can't be of use to you. I can't be of use to myself. But know this: none of it was the drug, for me. All of it was the truth. If the drug did anything, it was to break those last barriers of fear I had, fear of rejection, fear of pain. And you know what? I had a couple of glorious days, and I should be content with that. But I never will be. I'm greedy for you. I always have been. I suppose I always will be. And I don't care if it's the drugs talking or not, I need to say this so you will understand."

Castiel was really crying now, tears cascading down his cheeks. Dean was completely overwhelmed, and his tongue did not seem to work. 

The angel reached out and cupped his face in his hands. His eyes lit electric-blue for a moment, before fading out like a dying star.

"I'm in love with you, Dean Winchester," he said, to Dean, to the world at large, to everyone.

"Cas," said Dean. His brain just would not engage. Castiel looked at him with eyes filled with a dangerous hope he didn't quite dare to have.

"We gotta get back to the hotel," is what actually came out of his mouth, and Castiel dropped his hands. The moment was over.

Dean turned to pick up Cas's things for him, cursing himself for sounding like such an idiot. Still, there would be time, time to think of a good response. Cas deserved that.

"You sure you don't want to -" Dean began, just to have something to say,as he turned around with an armful of clothing.

He thought he'd heard a splash, and what he saw made him drop the clothes and run out to the furthest promontory.

There, bobbing in the ocean, was Castiel, beyond the rocky spray of the waves on the shore.

He raised an arm in farewell, and he was gone with the tides.

" _CASTIEL!!!_ " Dean screamed loud enough to wake the neighborhood, if there had been anyone there left to wake.

He was unsurprised to see Sam stumbling toward him. His brother joined him on the rock.

Dean realized he was crying, and pointed out toward where he'd last seen Castiel.

But the sea was dark and empty.

And behind them, he could hear the soft slide and thump of something coming.


	8. Night Swim

"What happened? Where is he?" Sam demanded, out of breath.

"He's _gone,_ Sam," said Dean in despair. 

Sam scanned the horizon. 

"I think I see something out there," he said.

"Where?" Dean demanded, pushing past his little brother.

Sam's massive mitt landed on the center of his chest, winding him.

"Not you," he said. "You've already been dosed enough and one of us needs to be clear-headed."

Sam turned to look at him. Dean's eyes were shining.

"Get him back for me, Sam," he said. Sam nodded.

And he dove into the dark water.

***

Dean watched Sam's progress as he made his way out into the water, fighting against the current all the way. He was so frustrated that he couldn't _do_ anything, just stand there and watch, while his brother and his best friend _and maybe something more_ were out there in the dark ocean.

_Stupid!_ he reprimanded himself, feeling the burn of shame course through him. _You couldn't even say **one nice thing** to someone you - someone you're in - ah you can't even say it to yourself in your own head! Worthless. _

_**Castiel could die because of you. Castiel HAS died because of you.** _

"No no no no no," Dean whispered harshly through his teeth. The thoughts circled like wolves, running their prey down, tiring it out.

And there, again, somewhere behind him, was that soft thud. 

Like someone was coming.

And they were taking their time.

"Dean!" Sam's voice broke through everything. Dean looked down to see Sam holding Castiel's prone body, slung over his shoulder. "A little help!"

Dean sprang into action, lifting Castiel's dead weight up onto the rocky shoreline. He put his ear to the angel's mouth.

"He's not breathin' Sammy, he's not breathin'," Dean said, patting the angel's cheeks, confused as to why he wouldn't respond.

"Get out of the way," said Sam, and shoved Dean away from Castiel's face. He began to do CPR as Dean belatedly realized that was what he should have done, and could have kicked himself.

Castiel coughed suddenly, spitting up water as Sam got out of the way and pushed him onto his side. He curled up, coughing violently, and glared at Sam with one eye.

"You should have let me be," he said.

"Shut the fuck up," said Sam, then gave a giddy laugh. Dean shot him a look.

"You're gonna be okay," Dean said, lifting Castiel up and cradling him in his arms. "We're gonna be okay."

Sam shook his head, tucking his hair behind his ears.

"We need to get inside and dry off," he said. "Right away."

***

Once they were all dry enough for Sam to lay off them already, they gathered in his room.

"I know you guys probably want to rest," said Sam. "But we really need to talk about this right now. We can't have another scene like tonight. We're here to help these people."

"Yeah, wherever _these people_ are," said Dean. "This smells like a trap to me, Sam."

Sam sighed, rubbing his face, steepling his hands in front of it.

Suddenly he sat up.

"Okay," he said. "Okay. What am I like when I'm drunk, Dean?"

"You're a fucking riot," said Dean. "Laughing like a little girl, you get huggy, you're all arms."

"And you?"

Dean's mouth formed a hard line.

"This isn't the time or place, I know," said Sam. "But I think it's important. It's news to absolutely nobody that you have a problem with alcohol. And sometimes when you drink too much or you don't eat enough food, or whatever - "

"I get really down," said Dean. "I got enough self hatred for ten people and it's like, there's this moment - or if someone says something the wrong way, or something happens at the bar - and I'll just sink."

"And when it's good?" asked Sam. Dean began to do the math on his own.

"When it's good, I'm fucking ecstatic," said Dean. "No holds barred, no strings attached...sex."

He shot a guilty look at Castiel, who watched him with serene eyes.

"I believe I may be the same, or similar," he said. "I haven't had enough experience to tell, but I know that I am flirtatious when intoxicated."

"And suicidal?" asked Sam pointedly. Castiel looked up at the ceiling, blinking.

"No," he said quietly. "That's all the time."

"What?" Dean asked. "You never said anything."

"You never listened."

"Okay, okay," Sam said. "We'll address that soon, as in, as soon as we're done with this, but Cas you gotta _promise_ not to do anything like that again. Okay?"

"Okay," Castiel growled.

"So basically what I'm thinking," said Sam, "is that this thing, whatever it is, makes you addicted. Closer to drunk than to ecstasy but with similar results. You know what they tell alcoholics -"

"Yeah," said Dean, who hated the fact that Sam would know that he'd been looking this up because he was worried he had a problem. "Euphoria at first, then needing to drink more and more to feel the same way, often sliding into depression or psychosis."

Dean looked at the floor.

"And then there's kindling," he said quietly.

"What's that?" asked Sam, surprised he didn't have all the answers but determined to have them next time.

"When an alcoholic stops drinking for a while," said Dean, "and then starts the sliding-slope thinking of _just one won't hurt,_ apparently even the taste of it fires something off in their brain and they aggressively overdo it. Every time they start again the damage gets worse."

"And you both feel a pull toward the pools," Sam said, ruminating on this for a while. 

"And you don't?" asked Dean. Sam looked at him.

"No," he said. "I don't."

He took some paper and began noting things down.

"But I think I'm the only one," he said. "If all the other people here are gone, if Juan can't remember who we are - "

"Also a product of alcohol consumption," Castiel put in. Sam nodded.

"Yeah," he said. "So the question is, who or what wants everyone drunk and out of the way?"

"And why aren't you one of them?" Dean supplied.

"The major problem I am seeing here is that both of you seem to have a predilection for addiction," said Sam, "and I honestly have no idea how I'm gonna fight this on my own. Because I might have to, if I lose you guys."

"You won't lose us," Castiel said. "I promise."

"No? Did neither of you feel an irresistible pull to get in that water?" he asked. They both looked away. "That's what I thought. So we're in for it if the cravings get too strong."

"We could go somewhere else on the island," suggested Castiel.

"We could," said Dean. "But there's another problem."

And he told them about the airport, and the strange sounds he had been hearing ever since they had arrived.

***

"For now, I think we should all go to bed," said Sam, yawning. "In the morning I think it's a good idea to get away from here. I'll drive us in the Jeep to one of the other towns on the island and see what we can find in their archives."

He stood up and ushered them out of his room, closing the door.

"Okay," said Dean. "Night, Sam."

Now he was left out here in the hall, alone, with Castiel.


	9. Something Wicked

Dean did what he did best.

He grabbed Castiel and kissed him.

No euphoric high to guide him, no safety behind drunkenness, just Castiel standing there in the corridor and Dean trying to ignore the nervous butterflies in his stomach, like he was a teenager and this was his first kiss.

In a strange way, it was - his first kiss stone-cold sober in years.

Castiel accepted the kiss and returned it with all the ferocity of a man possessed. Dean walked him down the hall backward towards his room, kicking the door open, and pushing him down onto the bed. He mouthed and nipped at Castiel's collarbone, standing to turn and close the door.

He turned around again to see Castiel, chest heaving, bright trusting blue eyes staring up at Dean, and in that moment Dean understood, realized what this creature had given up for him, would keep giving up, until he had nothing left and burned away into history.

It took his breath away. It also made him realize something very important.

**_Use your words, Dean._ **

Sam's voice of reason seemed to echo in his head. Dean sat down next to Castiel and took his hand.

"I - uh," he said, and the way Castiel looked like he was ready to be torn apart however Dean wanted to do it reminded him so much of the broken, drugged-out Castiel in that terrifying future that it broke his heart. "Listen, Cas, I wanna do this right. Okay?"

"Okay," said Castiel, as he would clearly always say whenever Dean asked anything of him.

"What you said, out there," Dean said, rubbing his hand on his jeans, "it's the same for me, too, Castiel. I'm - I'm, what you said."

_No. He deserves better than that. And so do you._

Dean wondered why his 'nice' inner voice always sounded like his brother.

"I'minlovewithyoutooCas," Dean mumbled, and then cleared his throat and looked the angel right in the eyes. "I'm in love with you too, Castiel. No drugs, no drink, sober as a judge, hand over my heart, I'm in love with you."

Castiel just went on staring at him like he hadn't said a word.

"I love your voice," Dean said, and now that the dam was broken it was like he couldn't stop, tripping over all the words he wanted to get out. "I love how you look pissed off and sleepy all the time. I love your eyes, they should be fucking illegal. You're hot when you're all powered up and badass, and you're hot when you're doing that tilting-head thing when you're watching food cook in the microwave and you're hot when you're healing me. I'm so damn stupid in love with you, Cas, Castiel."

There was still no reaction from the angel, who was gazing at Dean as if he were contemplating a bowl of soup or something equally boring.

"Hey, uh," said Dean. "Am I getting through, here? Can you hear me?"

Castiel gave him a long, slow blink.

"I'm sorry," he ground out. "I thought I must be dreaming."

And he crushed Dean to his chest with a strength that left him weak in the knees, and kissed him with everything a billion-year old creature who had seen the birth of the stars could possibly put into a single kiss.

Dean was delirious with it, and was no longer ashamed.

"Stay with me tonight?" Dean asked, afraid of being vulnerable, afraid of not being vulnerable enough to deserve any of this.

"Of course," said Castiel, and they lay down together as Dean switched off the light, listening to the other breathe, and the slow and steady pace of twin heartbeats.

***

"Cas."

It was still dark out, but the local chickens were clearly preparing to make a go of it, so dawn was near.

"Mmm."

"Cas, are you awake?"

Castiel's grip tightened on him like a vice.

"I am now."

The deep rumble of his chest reverbrated through Dean like an earthquake. 

_Damn,_ he thought. _And if I didn't love his voice before._

"This is how I carried you out of hell," said Cas, apropos of nothing.

Dean was speechless. What could he say to that?

_Something's better than nothing._

Dean sent a prayer of thanks to the Sam-voice in his head.

"Thank you," said Dean. "Thank you for saving me, Cas."

Cas responded by snuggling closer, until Dean was legitimately having a hard time breathing.

"Okay, human, still need to breathe."

"My apologies." The vice grip loosened. But not very much.

"Cas, I gotta ask you something."

"What?"

"You said - you'd lost your wings," said Dean. Castiel mumbled in acknowledgement.

"Then how did you get here?"

Somewhere, downstairs in the still night, Dean heard that same faint slide, and thump.

Now it sounded like it was coming up the stairs.

"Do you hear that?" whispered Dean, rolling over to face Castiel.

There was nothing there. The bed was empty.

***

Dean shot bolt upright in bed.

He listened to the strange sound, coming closer.

Did he make a run for it? Sam's room was on the other side of whatever was coming up the stairs.

He ran to the balcony and through the open doors. The morning air had a little chill to it, and he shivered from more than just the cold.

Dean measured the distance from his own balcony to Sam's. 

He could make it. Probably.

He climbed on the edge of the railing and got ready to jump.

" _Dean!_ " Sam's voice cut clear through him like a knife through butter.

Startled, he looked around.

It was bright daylight. The curtains fluttered in the breeze. Sam stood in the doorway holding a box of doughnuts, a horrified look on his face.

Dean turned around and nearly fell. He was standing on the railing, facing toward the water, ready to jump.

He gave a shout of horror and fell backwards into the room, bruising his tailbone.

"Dean, what the hell?" Sam shouted, dropping the food and running to his side. Dean groaned in pain, but at least he was here, indoors, and not crash-landed on the street outside.

"I don't know," said Dean. "Where's Cas?"

"Here," growled Castiel, rubbing his eyes. "What's going on?"

Sam was checking Dean over for injuries.

"Dean nearly took a swan dive off his balcony," said Sam. Castiel immediately fell to his knees, pressing two fingers to Dean's forehead. Dean batted them away.

"I'm fine," he said, sitting up. 

"You're _not_ fine," Castiel said. "What happened?"

Dean gave Castiel a long look.

"Last night," he said steadily. "After we left Sam's room. What happened?"

Castiel blushed, high on his cheekbones. So at least part of the night had been real.

"We kissed," he said. "And you told me you loved me."

Sam's expression at this point was at the halfway station between bitchface and the little brother who was going to make the rainbow cake for their wedding with his own two gigantic hands.

"And then?" asked Dean.

"We fell asleep," said Castiel. "I got up early and went to speak with Sam about the situation."

Dean put his head in his hands. "Then what was in bed with me?"

Dean filled them in. Both Sam and Cas blanched in terror. Dean let out a deep sigh.

"Okay," he said. "Then there are two options. One, I'm hallucinating, which is also a part of alcoholism. Two, there's something here with us."

"Three," Sam interjected. "It's both."

"If it's both," said Dean, "how do I tell the difference?"

Sam gave him a haunted look.

"It's hard to tell," he said, and Dean could see he was thinking of Lucifer. He patted Sam awkwardly on the elbow, the closest thing he could reach.

"I still want to know the answer to the question," said Dean. "You said you lost your wings, Cas. But I know I heard you fly into the bunker. And you got down here to the island somehow. Wanna share with the class?"

It was Castiel's turn to look guilty.

"I'm sharing my bed with a monster," said Dean. "I think I deserve to know."

"I have no idea," said Castiel. "One moment, I was there, the next, I was here."

"And you didn't think maybe you ought to mention it to us?" Dean demanded.

Castiel huddled in on himself.

"It was flying," he said, wretched. "Even if it wasn't my own wings, it was still flying. I - I was afraid it might not happen if I said anything. I couldn't see the harm in it, and I didn't want to lose it again. Maybe it was Heaven? Good things do happen."

But Castiel didn't even sound as if he believed it.

"I don't think this is a good thing," said Dean. "When I saw you in the future, man, you were so drugged out you barely knew what the hell was going on. You had orgies. You were high all the time."

Castiel nodded.

"I can see that," he said. "Anything to feel like I'm flying. Even if it's a poor substitute."

"Same reason you drink cough syrup, Dean," Sam said gently. Dean's eyes snapped to his. He'd had no idea that Sam had noticed. "I'm your brother. Of course I noticed."

Dean pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

"Anyone with an addiction is in real danger here," he said. "Sam. You were addicted to demon blood. So why - why me? Why Cas?"

Sam's smile had the edge of a knife to it.

"Demon blood was a feeling of power, of hate," he said. "Everyone's got their poison. You're addicted to euphoria and drowning your sorrows. Cas is addicted to flying, or anything that makes him feel that way."

Sam stared down at the floor.

"I was addicted to evil," he said. "Power. Hatred. Anger. I wasn't looking for happiness or freedom at the bottom of a bottle, booze or pills."

He met Dean's gaze.

"I was looking for a way to destroy the world," he said. "And whatever is going on here feeds off of a desperate need for happiness. I've never wanted it."

"Sam, I'm sorry," said Dean. Sam shook his head.

"No," he said. "I mean that it's not a part of me at all. I'm not unhappy. I'm just not interested. I find evil seductive, and the power evil promises. That's _my_ temptation. I could care less about feeling good. I just wanted to rule. The boy with the demon blood."

He quirked a half smile.

"Guess it's confession time for all of us," he said. "But it's why Hell was so interested in me. Heaven holds no attractions. I'm Cain. You're Abel. Didn't you know that, Dean?"

Dean's hand tightened on Sam's arm. He refused to believe it of his brother, but he had also seen the way Sam had reacted to the demon blood. To Ruby.

"Okay," said Dean, breathing out. He stood up. "That's enough time at the confessional for one morning. I think we gotta get out of town and start trying to figure out what the hell is going on here."

"Agreed," said Castiel. They helped Dean to his feet, and down the stairs.

The three men walked out of the hotel to the Jeep.

The natural pools of Garachico Caletón sat there, off to the left, reflecting the clear blue sky.

Still. Silent. Waiting.

Dean tore his eyes away.


	10. The Thousand Year Dragon

Their first stop was in the winemaking town of Icod de los Vinos, a jewel set in the emerald mountains. 

Dean walked hand-in-hand with Cas, and felt the strange sense of stress and anger just ebbing away. He mentioned this to Sam, who laughed.

"Sometimes I think that's just what it means to be on vacation, Dean," he said. They were walking down an avenue of trees in front of a church, when Sam pointed.

"There is is," he said. "The Thousand Year Dragon."

Dean and Cas looked up and saw a tree with many hundreds of branches, strange little pompoms at the end, like something out of a fairytale.

"This tree is supposed to be thousands of years old?" asked Dean.

"Well, that's the legend," said Sam. "They've dated it more like a few hundred years, but they don't know for certain."

"I do," Castiel said, as if it were nothing. "I was here when it sprouted."

Dean looked at him with a sense of vertigo, as if he'd only just noticed he was standing at a precipice.

"Sometimes I forget," Dean said. "How old you are. How much you've seen."

"Nothing compares," said Castiel, turning his attention from the dragon tree to Dean.

He blushed fiercely and looked away.

"Hey," said Sam. "Wait a minute."

"Yeah?" asked Dean.

"What if I'm looking in the wrong place?"

"Okay, Indiana."

"No, Dean, I mean -" and here he started to rev up the nerd talk with an excited lilt to his voice Dean knew by heart, "What if it's not Guanche folklore I should be looking at? What if it's Greek?"

"Greek?" asked Dean. "Greece is like, miles away from here."

Sam looked up at the branches of the dragon tree and took off his sunglasses, running a hand through his hair.

"Ptolemy called the Canaries the _Isles of Bliss,_ " said Sam. "But weren't they called the Hesperides too?"

"Beats me," said Dean, shrugging. "Find a monster, point me at it. That's what I'm good at."

"You'd be good at research too, if you'd just apply yourself," said Sam.

"Thanks, teach," said Dean. "But I'll bite. What are you thinking?"

"So get this," said Sam. "There's an old legend about the Canaries, about the hundred-headed dragon. Heracles killed him - Ladon."

"Okay, right," said Dean, warming to the topic. "Now that you mention it, that does sound familiar. The place with the golden apples, Jason and the Argonauts?"

Sam's bitchface at this point was so legendary Dean was impressed. He thought it should be painted on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

"You only know that because of that stupid stop-action movie," said Sam, folding his arms.

"Hey! that movie is awesome, you loved it as a kid too!" said Dean.

"No, you _made me_ watch it with you," said Sam. "I wanted to watch _Land Before Time_ and you never let me."

"The mom dies, okay?!" said Dean. "I was looking after you!"

"Dean - "

"How the two of you get anything done," said Castiel evenly, "is beyond the ken of heaven."

This seemed to rattle them both. Dean acknowledged his brother with a nod, and Sam continued.

"Anyway," he said. "What if that weird noise you've been hearing is Ladon?"

"The many-headed dragon?" asked Dean. "I thought it was dead."

"Dead is pretty meaningless in our world," Sam reminded him.

"All right, say it is this Ladon," said Dean. "What do we do? How do we kill it?"

"There is another possible solution," said Castiel. The two brothers turned to him. "We may be dealing with more than one problem. These islands, and many like them around the world, are a duality. The Canaries are heavily Catholic and also heavily pagan, but both are intertwined. They are not separate here, not in the way that they are in other parts of the world."

"That's smart," said Sam. "You may be on to something there."

"You said there's a library in town?" asked Dean.

"Yeah, they preserve a lot of stuff, even from contemporary artists."

"Let's go, maybe we can find something there."

***

The library of Icod de los Vinos was in an old convent called San Francisco. The building was beautiful. The whole town had a genuine serenity to it that felt like a balm to Dean's troubled soul. He could tell the difference, now that Sam had pointed it out. The euphoria he had felt at the pools was the same kind of misty, cottonheaded happiness that came from a drug.

This place, however, was just as magical as it had seemed on first glance, and he knew he was in possession of all his faculties. He kept trying to catch it doing something evil in the corner of his eye, but so far it seemed that these were just the qualities of this particular place.

"You know when people talk about a place having energy, or like, a - a personality, a soul?" asked Dean. Sam nodded. "Well, this is the first time I've ever agreed with them, and I've been hunting the supernatural my entire life."

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, staring up at the church.

"I changed my mind," he said abruptly. "I don't think it's Ladon after all."

"No?" asked Castiel. "What makes you say that?"

Sam studied the church for a while.

"Okay, I'm not one hundred percent on it," he said. "I want to check a few sources to see if I'm right. You good with that?"

"Sure," said Dean, and they entered the library together.

***

Inside, the place was cool and cavernous. Dean walked around, looking at things, after being expressly told _not to touch anything, Dean, I mean it!_ by his younger brother.

Dean let out a low whistle.

"It's just incredible, how old this place is," he said. "In America, you're not gonna find buildings much older than a couple hundred years."

"Indeed," said Castiel.

"And you've seen it all, haven't you, Cas?" he asked. 

"Most of it, yes," Castiel answered. "Sometimes I was busy."

Dean walked up to the angel and kissed him.

"I love you, Castiel," he said. It seemed a lot easier to say, now that he had said it once. Maybe he could try it out on Sam, if he wasn't absolutely certain that Sam would mock him mercilessly for it.

Castiel just watched him with starry eyes.

"Sam would appreciate it too," he said. 

"Will you stop doing that?" Dean said. "Stop reading my mind!"

"I can't read minds," said Castiel. "But I can read that look on your face just as well as any other human. You wear your heart on your sleeve, Dean, much as you'd like to imagine yourself cool and cold. It's one of the things I love most about you."

"Okay, break it up," said Sam, setting an enormous old book on the table.

"I love you, Sam," said Dean, out of nowhere. Sam looked up at him, bitchface ready and waiting in case he needed to deploy it if Dean was giving him shit. When he realized the words were sincere, his face brightened up like it was Christmas and he'd just gotten the best present ever.

"I love you too, Dean," said Sam, glowing like melted butter.

"All right, all right, enough already," Dean said, already embarrassed even though everyone else was also saying their I love yous like it was the latest trend. "What've you got?"

"Dean, I just want to say I know how hard that must have been for you," Sam said, his voice dripping with Feelings to the point that Dean started to really feel alarmed.

"Okay, knock it off, I get it," said Dean. "We got a hunt right now. We can talk over feelings when we see Baby next."

"Baby - the Impala?" asked Sam slowly. "Dean, we left the car back in the airport in Kansas."

"Can't have heart-to-hearts without the Impala," said Dean, "them's the rules. Now fill me in."

Sam just stared at his brother for a moment and shook his head.

"Have you ever heard of Animeros?"


	11. Animero

"So, the Animeros were people with aspects of Catholicism and the Guanche religion," Sam explained as the Jeep took on the curves of road between Garachico and Icod. "They were people who were considered to have some kind of holiness, and could cast out demons."

"Like you and your brother," said Castiel.

"Right," said Sam.

"Okay," said Dean, "but what are we dealing with? We don't just show up and they run off, Sam, there's something else going on."

"I think so too," said Sam, "but I also think that of all the hunters in the world, Juan was looking for us in particular, he just forgot the reason why."

"How so?"

"Because it's not duality he was after," Sam explained. "It was a trinity."

He glanced over at the two of them.

"Earth. Hell. Heaven."

***

"No. No way."

Sam sighed and crossed his arms as they sat in the restaurant again.

This time, Juan greeted them with a friendly wave, but did not seem to remember them at all.

"Dean, you're just going to have to accept it."

"No! I'm not going to accept you're evil, Sam!" Dean said. "That's just not true."

"Dean, my association with hell doesn't mean that I'm evil, necessarily," said Sam. "It's just about temptation, and what we're tempted by."

Dean shook his head and stared out at the pools, wishing he could swim. Sam tracked his gaze and waved a hand in front of his face.

"We're going to fix this," said Sam. "And the sooner you believe it, the better."

"Is it really that bad?" Dean asked. "I mean, it's making people happy. What's the harm?"

"You know what the harm is," said Sam. "It nearly killed both of you."

Dean sat back in a huff.

"Fine," he said. "But I'm not going to like it."

"As long as you agree to it, that's all that matters," said Sam. 

***

Upstairs, Dean stood in his bedroom in the dark, hesitant about going out to the balcony or getting in bed. He was restless, and feared another nightmare. They were so close to an answer, or so Sam seemed to think. When he wasn't fighting, he felt useless. Sam was the mystery-solver and the researcher. Otherwise Dean would've been in way over his head, and might have lost Cas.

Might have lost himself too, come to think of it.

There was a soft knock at his door.

"Come in. I can't sleep anyway."

The door opened, and Castiel stood in the doorway as if he wasn't sure he were welcome.

"Come in, Cas," Dean said again. "Close the door."

Castiel turned and did as he was told. Then he approached Dean, saying nothing, waiting for his response.

Dean let out a sigh and kissed Castiel, his hands going to caress the skin of his ribcage.

"I love you, Castiel," he said, "I love you so much."

He brought Castiel to the bed, and laid down with him

"I want you to know that," Dean said. "I want to do this with you tonight, sober, nothing weird going on. No drugs, no magic."

He kissed down Castiel's stomach with reverence, and found the angel trembled under his hands. He kissed the tip of his hardening cock gently, and then lay down on the bed beside him.

"I want you, Castiel," Dean whispered.

Cas made a sound like a half-choked, desperate sob and a whimper, and he was on top of Dean, touching him everywhere. It was like the first time they had done this, but so, so different; then, Dean remembered feeling like he was detached, floating, high. Now, he treasured every soft, sweet sound he could pull from his angel, remembered how it felt to have Castiel's hands stroke him, his tongue in the dip of his hipbones, the bright shine of his eyes as he lost himself completely.

Dean found that he was pliant and ready for Castiel to take him, and more, that he wanted it so badly his cock ached in a way that was almost painful. This time, Castiel took his time in preparing him, something Dean didn't quite recall from before. Maybe it was magic. 

But now, his body was lax while his anticipation was taut like a bowstring, and Castiel pressed the head of his cock against his entrance.

"Let me in, beloved," whispered Castiel, and just like that, Dean did. 

Castiel's cock spread him apart, making him feel impossibly full, like he was being stretched to the limit.

" _Dean,_ " Castiel moaned, like it was a prayer. Dean was gasping for breath, wondering how it had been so easy before, and now it was like the first time it had ever happened to him.

"I love you," said Dean, who couldn't seem to get enough of saying it. Castiel shuddered, lips wet against his collarbone, and he kissed Dean's neck, speaking in some ancient tongue Dean couldn't understand.

Then, Castiel began to move, and Dean lit up like a pinball machine. 

He arched his back and cried out suddenly, Castiel gripping his hips and anchoring him in place as he moved inside, not letting Dean get away. Dean watched him in wonder as this warrior of Heaven claimed him, losing his composure on panted little moans. Then Castiel touched Dean's aching cock, and he went off like a rocket, coming hard just as Castiel thrust into him and wept through his own release.

Castiel collapsed beside him on the bed, as they came down from their respective highs, and he touched Dean on the cheek.

"I love you, Dean Winchester," he said. "Before, now, after. Always."

Dean smiled against his skin.

***

A little while later, Dean decided it was high time he went for a rag to clean them off. He returend from the bathroom and gently wiped Castiel down, who grumbled in his sleep like a half-woken cat. 

Dean smiled fondly as he cleaned himself up too, and went back into the bathroom to rinse the rag out and put it in the laundry pile. He stretched, and went back out to the room. He leaned in the bathroom doorway, looking at the beautiful sight of a debauched Castiel swaddled in the white covers of the bed, as a tropical evening breeze moved the palm trees and cooled his skin.

He was proud of himself for being able to tell Castiel how he felt. Maybe the tide was turning. Maybe things would work out between them, and they'd all take real vacations together, the two of them and his brother, just like real families.

Maybe - maybe even - 

and Dean strangled that thought before the word _husband_ could really cross his mind.

Then, he heard it again.

_No,_ he thought in desperation. _Not now, not when everything is going right._

That slide and whump, of something large, the thing that had been following him since the airport in Kansas.

Now it was all around him, echoing off the walls, inescapable.

So he did the first thing he could think to do, and stood in front of the bed, to protect Castiel from whatever was coming.

Dean's eyes widened.

" _Sam!_ "


	12. Presa Canario

"What? What is it?"

Sam burst into the room, rubbing his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Castiel, in Dean's bed.

The second thing he saw was Dean's silhouette, out on the balcony.

The third thing he saw was the _massive_ head of a dog, taller than the balcony, looking right at Dean.

"A little help, here, Sammy?" Dean said.

Sam walked out onto the balcony. The massive head was attached to a massive dog, standing in the street. It was the height of the second stories of the houses. 

And on the ground beside it, lay -

"The hundred-headed dragon," said Dean. The dog wagged its tail, while the dead monster lay in the street bleeding.

One of the windows in a house down the street broke as the dog's enthusiasm increased.

"Uh," said Sam.

"This is the thing that's been following me since Kansas?" asked Dean. "Thought you knew all about dogs, Sam."

Castiel chose this moment to join them on the balcony. He said something in a language Dean didn't recognise.

The dog sat down in the street, its tail still wagging.

"Cas?" Sam said. "Do you know what - what, uh, breed of dog this is?"

"It's a Canarian breed," said Castiel. "The Guanche were said to be two meters tall and this island was full of gigantic dogs. Blonde and blue-eyed, tall natives. It's a real mystery."

"Care to enlighten us?" Dean said. "We could use the intel, Cas."

"If you are an animero," said Castiel, "then you exist in three different folklores at once, maybe four. This is a dog from Canarian folklore. The dragon is Greek."

"You're Abrahamic," said Sam, "Catholic?"

Castiel nodded.

"Spanish folklore intertwines with the Guanche here," he said. "The dog will be useful, in this case. There are black dogs in Canarian folklore and they aren't the good guys."

"Great," said Dean, running a hand through his hair. "So we've got a tangle of folklore on our hands with no way to solve the problem. At least the dragon is dead. Again."

"The real problem is that we're running out of time," said Sam. "Juan didn't even know us, and the village is completely empty. It's only a matter of time before it starts to spread to the rest of the island, and who knows where next."

"I feel the solution is in the temptations we are experiencing," said Castiel. "Good or bad. Something here is trying to prevent us from fighting."

He looked outside, past the dog's head.

"I still feel the pull of the water," he confessed. "It only grows stronger. I don't know how long I can resist."

Dean turned to him and took his hand.

"Resist, okay?" he said. "We'll figure it out. We've got to."

He squeezed Cas's hand.

"In the meantime," he said, "what should we do with the dog?"

***

It was Sam, of course, who found a place for the dog to rest. 

"Looks like you're having fun," said Dean, as Sam patted the dog on the head while it curled up beneath a tree to rest.

"I always wanted a dog," he said. "Not a supernatural giant dog, but I guess beggars can't be choosers."

"Honestly seems fitting, considering our lives," he said. "You think they'd let us bring him back to Kansas? He could run around there in the fields, plenty of room."

Sam laughed.

"That would be great, but no," he said. "I get the feeling that once we figure out what's going on here, he's going to disappear back to wherever he came from."

Dean nodded, shoving his hands in his pockets. Sam walked with him down the cobblestone streets in the warm midday sun.

"You want to talk about what's going on with you and Cas?" Sam asked. Dean shook his head.

"Not right now," he said. "It's going good, I don't wanna jinx it."

"Okay," said Sam. "But not forever, you get me?"

"Sure," said Dean. "There's something I gotta know, though. Why's it taking us so long to figure this out? There's nobody left in town but us and Juan, and now this giant dog - and the corpse of a dragon. This is _weird_ , Sam, and like - way more than our usual weird."

"I know," said Sam. "Burying the dragon was kind of par for the course, but the rest of it? Even the fact that the dog showed up with the dragon? And if you're animero, wouldn't I be too? I cast out demons."

"Yeah, but you also bring them in," said Dean. "Remember Ruby?"

"Dean, you _were_ a demon," Sam reminded him. "None of us is really the ultimate hero, not here."

"Well, maybe that's the point?" Dean said. "Maybe being a hero is about still trying to do good despite your mistakes?"

"I'm proud of you," said Sam. "You're starting to sound like me."

"Shut up," said Dean, grinning, and shoved his brother into a nearby wall.

"Seriously, though," said Sam. "I get the sense that we're running out of time."

Dean sobered.

"Yeah, me too," he said.

***

Back at the hotel, the sun had set. The sky was still blue but the shadows were lengthening. 

Dean sat on his bed, looking out at the palm trees, listening to the birds in the trees getting ready for the night. Castiel was already asleep on his side of the bed, where he had now become a fixture without either of them discussing it.

Safety in numbers, after all. And Dean was all the more acutely aware of the things he didn't want to lose.

He crawled into bed beside Castiel, and wrapped himself around the angel, breathing in his wild scent, like thunderstorms in the summer, fresh and clean. No human had that scent. 

It was like coming home.

_I love you_ , Dean mouthed against his skin, and squeezed his eyes closed, if only to keep traitorous tears from falling.


	13. The Eruption of Trevejo

Dean crept down the stairs, trying not to waken anyone.

He went outside in the blue tinge of dawn, marveling at how there seemed to be no difference between the temperature indoors and outdoors. It was beautiful, and he had never really noticed how stressful the cold could be. If there was a paradise, he thought, this was it.

Despite the warm weather, the town had been covered in fog. He had seen the clouds crowning the jagged green peaks rising above the water, while Sam was driving the Jeep along the winding island roads. He appreciated the cloud cover, as it would hide him doing what he was about to do.

The giant dog whuffled in its sleep, and Dean cringed, thinking _of course a dog that big is gonna smell me_. If it did, however, its only reaction was to whine in its sleep and roll over onto its back, dreaming some kind of doggy dream as its paws mimicked running.

Dean got out of there as quickly and quietly as possible, and then found what he was looking for.

The library of Garachico.

_If you'd just apply yourself,_ he could hear Sam saying. Dean didn't have his gun, or his car. He felt useless. It was time to apply himself.

***

The first thing that caught his eye was an informational panel on the wall that talked about the volcanic eruption in Garachico.

_Before the eruption of Trevejo,_ it said, _Garachico was the primary port town on the island of Tenerife. The lava destroyed most of the town, and the major port moved to Puerto de la Cruz, up the coast. Today the town is still one of the best-preserved in the Canaries, and one of the results of the flow was the creation of the natural pools of Garachico Caletón, enjoyed by tourists and locals alike._

Armed with this information, Dean went into full research mode, looking through any books he could find relating to the folklore of the island.

Contrary to the image Dean preferred to project to the world, he was an intelligent, resourceful man. He'd seen how Sam was bullied for his intellect, and how people respected his father: a tough, good-looking guy with a cool car who was good at fighting and basically monosyllabic most of the time. The all-American red-blooded man.

Then along came his sons. One clever and brilliant, an academic and a researcher, still a great fighter. The other, with the same intelligence and added acuity for mechanical things, someone like Dean could have been an engineer. The circumstances in his life had made him hide anything and everything his father didn't approve of, and that included things like research, despite how much their jobs depended upon it.

He'd also hidden his interest in men, because all-American red-blooded boys didn't do that. He wondered, briefly, what John would have thought about his relationship with the angel. Nothing good, he assumed, and he also realized that if John had still been alive, Dean may never have grown out of the need to ape everything his father did.

He was becoming his own man, now. A little late, but better late than never.

His finger landed on a sentence in a book as he was half-distracted by thoughts of his father's impact on their lives, and read it again.

_...human sacrifices included throwing children into the waves, and sometimes even adult men..._

He set the book down and picked up another for cross-referencing.

... _the torches symbolize fertility, and the people throw them down the hills to imitate lava..._

Dean sat back and pressed his hands to his face. 

_Animero. The righteous man. Sometimes even adult men. Torches and fertility, lava._

_The many-headed dragon._

_Guanche. Abrahamic. Spanish. Pagan. Greek._

The rules of ritual asked for a mix of ingredients.

Here, it seemed, the requirement would be a mix of people instead.

***

"Sam. Sammy, wake up."

Dean was sitting on the end of his bed as Sam emerged from slumber. He sat up, hair all over the place, and squinted at his brother.

"Did you steal those?" was the first thing out of his mouth, as he pointed at the library books.

"Not important right now," said Dean. "And yes. But here, I want you to look at these."

And he handed Sam the books, with little tabbed markers where the important stuff had been.

Sam looked at the books. He looked at his brother.

"Who are you?" he asked. Dean glared at him.

"Very funny," said Dean. "I think I know what we need to do. But you ain't gonna like it."

***

"Dean, this is crazy."

"Sam, this is reality. Sooner you accept it, the better."

Castiel walked into the bedroom, yawning.

"I heard voices," he said. "What's going on?"

"Oh, nothing," said Sam airily. "Dean just wants to sacrifice himself to ancient gods, how are you?"

Castiel was wide awake in an instant.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Dean?"

Dean sighed.

"Look, I got up early and I went to the library," he said. "Shock, horror, yeah I know. But I found out a bunch of stuff about this town. Like, it used to be a huge deal before a volcanic eruption destroyed it. And people used to perform human sacrifices here, sometimes even grown men. There's a monster that lives in the volcano, he appears as a black dog."

Castiel looked out the window meaningfully at where the giant dog was just waking up, stretching.

"No, not that one," he said. "In fact, I think that one might be here to protect us. It killed the hundred-headed dragon, and it doesn't sound like the monster in the mountain would want us to do that."

"What's the reason?" asked Sam. "Why's it doing this?"

"Guayota is a malignant force that lives in the Teide volcano," said Dean. "He has demon-dog servants, the Tibicenas. He stole the sun."

"And he's what, trying to steal the sun again?" asked Sam.

Dean shook his head.

"No, I don't think so," he said. "But I think he wants the land. And he wants everyone to be unable to fight."

"Hence the euphoric drunkenness," Sam said. "Why couldn't he just cause another eruption?"

"He could, and he will," said Dean. "But if he wants to make sure it happens, then everyone forgetting about him and how to fight him - especially hunters - means he doesn't have to work too hard."

"Are you saying all of this is so we can stop a volcano erupting?" asked Castiel, glancing up at the Teide, standing silent sentinel above them.

"I am saying we are here to stop a volcanic eruption that will destroy this entire island, and maybe cause tsunamis," said Dean. "I'm willing to throw myself into the sea to stop that. Thousands of lives on the line here, man."

Sam breathed slowly through his nose.

"All right," he said. "What do we need to make sure we do this the right way?"

"We call on Achamán to help us," said Dean. "The supreme being of these islands. And for that, we need a combination of people, and we need a sacrifice."


	14. Sacrifice

Dean stood by the pools, alone.

The sea crashed against the rocks beyond them, while the pools were still, reflecting the sky above him, just before sunrise. Clouds traveled across the water as the sky turned from gray to pink.

He read the incantation in his hand, more a prayer than a spell.

_We call on Achamán, supreme being of these islands_

_We offer you an animero, a Guanche, a guardian, a protector, a scholar_

_Put right what Guayota has made wrong_

_let our drunkenness cease_

_let Magec the sun return_

_and our eyes and ears behold the true morning._

Behind him, he could hear Sam and Castiel approaching. They had brought Juan with them, although he looked as if he had no idea why.

"I'm doing this," Dean said over his shoulder.

"And if you're doing this, you need us," said Sam. 

Dean nodded. They joined hands.

" _Animero,_ " said Dean.

" _Guardian,_ " said Castiel.

" _Scholar,_ " said Sam.

The great dog padded over and sat down beside them - _protector._

"What about - " Dean began, when he saw Juan walk up to them and join his hands to the circle.

" _Guanche,_ " he said. "My family is Spanish and Guanche. That should be enough."

_In exchange for my sacrifice, I ask a boon_

_When Magec returns, my friend returns to his normal state_

_Give him back his wings._

Dean added this silent prayer to the proceedings, figuring it couldn't hurt.

That was when they heard the growling. 

Sam saw Dean's reaction, and the immediate thought of _hellhounds_ crossing his features. Sam shook his head.

"Guayota's demon dogs," said Sam. "He won't be happy we're trying to stop him."

"Is there any way you can hold them off?"

"I don't - "

And the giant gray dog that had been their companion for the last day suddenly snarled, turned, and leaped into the air, attacking something they couldn't see. The dog vanished into a gray cloud, lightning licking down its hide, and from the cloud came the roar of thunder.

From the mountain, a low rumbled warning. Guayota did not like to be challenged.

"It's now or never," said Dean. He nodded to Juan, then hugged Sam as hard as he could.

Then he turned to Castiel.

"Cas - " he said, and then kissed him for all he was worth.

It began to rain, as the thunder rolled.

"Thank you," said Dean. "For everything."

Then he walked out past the pools, to the jagged rocks where the sea churned and roiled.

He raised a hand in farewell.

Then he dove into the wild ocean.

The tide turned. The mountain roared. The sky was split with thunder.

And the waters of the dark Atlantic closed over his head.

***

The noise had become deafening. The ground shook. Sam and Juan were thrown off their feet onto the ground, the world swaying crazily.

Then Castiel shouted, somehow louder than the rest, as his back bowed and he threw back his head, the column of his throat and his bare chest inundated with rainwater. 

He began to rise from the earth, floating suspended in the air above the pools.

Suddenly, an awful ripping sound echoed out, as lightning struck Castiel's body.

Sam was shouting but his voice was snatched away by the wind.

Two beautiful white wings emerged from his back, blood-soaked but pristine beneath, and stretched out into the wind.

Castiel dropped into the pools.

Before Sam or Juan could run to the edge, Castiel's head breached the water.

His eyes were the electric blue of grace, and there was a halo glowing around his head.

As he stepped out of the pools, water sluiced down from his body, and from the white wings.

He had lightning in his hands, and he crackled with power.

Turning, he beat the air with his wings, and he flew to the water where Dean had disappeared.

Holding his wings close to his body like a diving hawk, he plunged into the water and vanished into the deep.

***

Moments passed. The storm groaned and roared above their heads.

Sam was nearly voiceless, screaming for his brother and his guardian angel.

Juan stood silently at his side.

Then, impossibly, the water began to swirl, and a blue light could be seen, reflecting the heavens.

Castiel emerged from the darkness of the sea, holding Dean's still body in his arms.

***

He lay Dean down beside Sam, and placed his hands on Dean's body.

"Come back," Castiel whispered, under the storm, but Sam could hear him. "Come back to us."

Moments ticked past, while everyone held their breath, and the rain fell.

Suddenly, Dean coughed, water spilling from his mouth. Castiel pushed him onto his side.

Sam sagged with relief against Juan.

Dean's beautiful green eyes blinked open, looking up at Castiel.

The angel smiled.

"I will always raise you," he said. "For as long as I can."

And they just stayed there, breathing.

***

A few minutes later, the thunder faded away. A last, loud rumble came from the mountain, as if it were shouting in fury at being thwarted.

The clouds began to recede. The sun returned, to warm the earth.

"You back with us?" Sam asked Juan. He grinned, looking a little embarrassed, and nodded.

The town of Garachico behind them began to fill with people. They looked confused, rubbing their eyes, and going about their daily business as if nothing had interrupted them.

Castiel helped Dean to his feet.

"Magec returns," Castiel said. "The danger is past."

Dean nodded, and smiled like the sun.


	15. Lago Martianez

Castiel lay on the rock, his white wings spread wide, soaking up the sun.

"Careful. You're going to get the locals all riled up, looking like that."

Castiel looked up and smiled. Dean swam over to him, the clear turquoise water making little eddies around him.

"Dean," Castiel said, and Dean hauled himself up on the rock, where they kissed lazily.

They were at Lago Martianez in Puerto de la Cruz, the largest open-air swimming pool in Europe, made to look like a tropical lagoon. The entire place was filled with private little coves and hideaways, perfect for stealing kisses.

"Aw, c'mon, you guys," said Sam's voice. They looked up to see him standing on a bridge eating ice cream and wearing bright red swim trunks.

"You're just jealous," said Dean. Sam grinned.

"You gotta try this ice cream, it's incredible," he said.

Dean pressed a hand to his heart in mock horror.

" _My_ brother? Recommending _junk food?_ " he said. "I think I'm having a religious experience."

"I can give you a religious experience," ground out Castiel. Dean's smile was blinding, while Sam made the appropriate disgusted-sibling noises.

"Come on, Sammy, gimme a break," said Dean. "I just came back from the dead. Again."

"Yeah, real cool," muttered Sam. "Not like we all haven't done it."

"All right, I'm getting out," said Dean. "What's so great about this ice cream, anyway?"

He climbed up onto the bridge next to his brother.

"Dunno," said Sam. "It's delicious though. It's called polvito."

Cas snorted. They both looked at him.

"It's - ah," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's from _echar un polvito,_ Spanish slang for _a little fuck_."

Dean stared at Castiel, mostly because of his reaction to the angel saying _fuck._

Sam turned beet red. Like his shorts.

"Anyway," he said. "It's good."

"I imagine so," said Castiel in a deadpan voice, and Dean threw back his head and laughed.

***

After they'd had their fill of the lido, they drove back to Garachico for the evening. Juan was waiting for them in the little _guachinche_ near the pools.

"Welcome back," he said. "Care to join me for dinner?"

They accepted, and drank the homemade wine as they sat around the table.

"I cannot thank you enough for your help," said Juan. "I held on as long as I could, but I think anyone who had been here long enough ended up going under."

"It's all right," said Sam. "It almost got us, too. I think it didn't because we were recent arrivals. Dean said the pull of the water was very strong."

"Yes, this is winemaking country," Juan said, raising his glass for emphasis. "And Guayota could do worse than making everyone drunk and forgetful. It is a new tactic. I suppose as civilizations change, so do gods."

Castiel nodded.

"It is one of the most fascinating things about the universe," he said. "Something can be billions of years old, and still find new things in the world."

He squeezed Dean's leg under the table. Dean bowed his head and smiled.

"I'm thankful I was correct in that I needed the three of you specifically," said Juan. "I had notes, I had everything prepared. I wasn't a lot of help during the actual event, I'm sorry to say."

"That's not true," said Dean. "Where else would we have gotten a Guanche?"

"That's true," said Juan.

"I do miss that dog," said Sam wistfully. Dean slapped him on the back.

"One day, Sammy," he said.

***

As the evening set in, after an incredible sunset framed by the palm trees, Dean and Castiel were walking by the water. 

They stood at the edge of the natural pools of Garachico Caletón.

"It's funny," said Dean. "I know it's just water again, but it makes me feel weird."

Castiel nodded.

"I think it's natural to feel uneasy," he said. "But - "

"But?" asked Dean.

"I wouldn't want my only memories of this place to be related to the hunt," said Castiel. 

He turned to Dean, his blue eyes bright.

"What do you think?" he asked. "Do you want to?"

Dean looked at the water, and then at Castiel, strong and proud, silhouetted against the tropical night sky.

"I'm game if you are," said Dean.

And Castiel dove into the clear water.

***

They spent the evening in the pools, laughing and talking, and then kissing beneath a clear starry sky.

_Who needs to drink,_ thought Dean, dizzy with Castiel's kisses, _when I've got my very own euphoria right here?_

***

The following day, it was finally time to leave.

"It was good to meet you, Juan," said Sam, giving him a hug. "If you ever need us again, don't hesitate to call. We'll always be interested in coming to a tropical island, for any reason."

"Yeah," Dean grinned. "Especially in February. Let us know if anything suspicious happens in February. We'll be right here to help."

"Thank you for this time," said Castiel, shaking his hand. "I appreciate the beautiful traditions of your people, and to be allowed to participate in some of your traditional activities."

Juan smiled, but looked confused.

"Does he really think fighting demons are our _traditional_ activities?" he whispered. "I mean, apart from my being a hunter, most people don't usually do this kind of thing."

Sam gave him a lopsided smile.

"Angel," he said, by way of explanation, and shrugged. Juan beamed and nodded, as if this made all the sense in the world.

***

They headed into Tenerife South airport, and Dean turned around to look at the place. Palm trees waved in the wind outside where the buses came and went. People were happy. He'd never been anywhere in his life that people were so content.

Castiel came up beside him and put an arm around his waist.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

"Thought you could read my mind," said Dean. He felt Castiel smile against his skin.

"You know that I can't."

Dean grinned.

"It's just -" he said. "I'd like to come back here someday. No hunt, nothing. Just you, me, Sam, and the beach, frozen cocktails, the whole nine."

Castiel kissed him softly on the neck.

"I think I'd like that," he said. "I'd like that very much."

Then Sam called to them, and they reluctantly turned away from the beautiful blue skies, and the palm trees like paper in the wind, and the grandeur of Teide the volcano standing sentinel over it all.


	16. Home

" _Baby, I've missed you so much!_ " Dean crooned as he attempted to hug his car.

Castiel and Sam watched this with raised eyebrows. Sam spoke out of the corner of his mouth.

"You wanted _this_ guy?" he asked. Castiel breathed in and shook his head, lifting his hands.

"Well, he does seem keen on interspecies relationships," said the angel.

"Shh, don't listen to them, Baby," said Dean, as he unlocked the car and slid behind the wheel. He petted the dashboard. "Did you miss me? I bet you did."

Sam opened the trunk and barely managed to fit their luggage in there with all the weaponry, but he managed. He closed it and got in the car.

Dean grinned and cranked the stereo up as Led Zeppelin came on the radio.

He held Castiel's hand over the backseat as he drove out of the airport parking garage and back towards home.

***

"So get this," Sam said as he walked into the kitchen, holding his laptop. 

Dean held up a hand.

"Nuh-uh," he said. "We are _not_ getting right back up on the horse. Taking some time to unwind right now, Sam."

He smiled at Castiel across the table. Sam made a noise in the back of his throat.

"Fine," he said. "I'm gonna call Jody and see if we can get to the bottom of this. I'd like to get back up on the horse myself."

"You do you," said Dean, as Sam disappeared through the doorway.

Dean and Castiel stared at each other for a while, as Dean drank his beer.

"Are things going to be different now?" asked Castiel in a rush. "I know we're - we're back home, and the magic is gone, so I won't feel badly if you decide -"

"Do _you_ not want to keep going, or -" Dean said. "I won't hold it against you, man, I know things are different on vacation - "

Castiel caught Dean's wrist as he went to take another drink. Blue eyes caught his, and gazed into his soul.

"Dean Winchester," he said. "I will _always_ want you. Vacation, here in the bunker, covered in blood on a hunt, in the very depths of hell."

A soft smile crossed his features.

"If you'll have me," he said, looking down at the floor.

"Wow," said Dean, setting his beer down. "We really are a couple of dumbasses."

He came around the table and almost bodily lifted the angel out of his seat. Or would have, if Castiel didn't weigh roughly the same as a car, with the same steel strength beneath his skin. Castiel allowed himself to be lifted, and turned to Dean.

Dean kissed the life out of him.

"And I will always want you," he assured him between kisses, "stupid - reckless - angel."

Castiel melted into the kisses and held Dean tightly to his chest.

"I love you," he said.

Dean grinned at him.

"I love you too," he said. "And I'm sorry I've been so blind, and it's taken me so long to say it. And listen - "

Dean held his gaze.

"Never, _ever_ think that you're not wanted here," he said. "You talked about suicide, Cas, and that ain't gonna fly. If I need to get you some help, I will - hell, I know I ain't exactly equipped to talk anybody off a ledge - but I just want you to know that I need you here, man."

Castiel looked away from him.

"I know I have my wings back now," he said. "So I can be useful again -"

"Whoa, hey, Cas," said Dean. "It was never about you being _useful_ to us. I want you here because I want _you here._ You're the best friend I've ever had, and now we're - whatever we are - because of who _you_ are, Castiel."

At the sound of his full name, Castiel smiled.

"And I cannot promise that I am not going to fuck up again," said Dean. "I know that'd be stupid. But I am sorry for all the shit I've put you through, and the things I've said - God, I don't know why you're still here, sometimes. But you deserve better than that."

He released Castiel from his arms and walked back to his beer. 

"And I wanna be a better man because of you," Dean said. "I wanna be a better man because you deserve better, too. It's not all gonna be plain sailing, but - I'm here, and offering, if you want it."

Castiel sat down in front of him and took his hand.

"I feel I have disappointed you, too," he said. "And done some - unspeakable things. But I am willing to work on it, if you are. And yes, I want it. Whatever you have to give."

They smiled at each other. Dean couldn't understand the way his heart seemed to do a flip, like he was a bashful teenager again, just getting to first base. 

But Castiel had a strange way of making him feel like he was flying.

"What do you say we take this conversation to the bedroom?" asked Dean, because he was Dean. "My bed's memory foam. Maybe it will remember you, too."

This time Castiel's smile was blinding.

"I would like nothing more," he said.

As they walked together down the hall to Dean's room, he said, "You know, next time we go on vacation I think you should wear even _tighter_ shorts, they look great on you - "

and they went inside, Castiel pulling off his tie, as Dean kicked the door closed behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! Thank you so much for reading this story! I'm always keen on these guys getting a break or a vacation, and they're never in the tropics.
> 
> Many of the things in this story are really Canarian folklore, including the giant dogs and the malevolent entity in the volcano that stole the sun. The natural pools of Garachico Caletón are also real, and amazing! Most people dismiss Tenerife as a tacky British holiday resort, but most of that happens in the south part of the island. In the north, where Icod, Garachico, and Puerto de la Cruz are located, you can still see the original Canarian culture. Icod in particular enjoys celebrating various festivals throughout the year, including the pagan fire festival that is meant to mimic lava going down the mountain. The Canaries are rich in folklore and history, and Tenerife is staggeringly beautiful. Lago Martianez is something that has to be seen to be believed!
> 
> And yes, that ice cream Sam is eating at the end is real - and does mean exactly what Castiel said! :) 
> 
> Thanks for reading, and for all your comments! They make it much easier to write updates and keep the story going.


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